


Sensory Details

by Thea Carmen (RobotPhantom)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Female Pyro, gross fluffy bullshit, mercs touching eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotPhantom/pseuds/Thea%20Carmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All they had in common was the masks they both wore</p>
<p>      and that had been enough</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensory Details

**Author's Note:**

> I own NOTHING of this. Other then the idea and the hands that worked on it. Edited by DevionEcho on tumblah!

They were both masked. Anonymous, absent of identity to all but themselves. Their friendship had surprised the team, along with their enemies on the other side of the fence. At passing glance, the two seemed to have little to nothing in common. One, a silent, irritable loner (who the RED Scout had become attached to almost immediately for reasons sure to know one) with a penchant for pyromania, and the other, a debonair ladies man with a fine taste in suits and an acrid sense of humor. All they had in common were the masks they wore. 

But that would be enough. 

Red gloved hands would trace over old scars with blind fascination. He would ask about the origins of some of her more prominent ones, but she would never speak a word, gently guiding his hand somewhere else, perhaps to the odd extra bone on her wrist, or the top of her head, while her own traced the light stubble on his chin or the triangular knife scar on the back of his knee. They weren't mercenaries here. They were shapes. Fuzzy dark outlines of two people who didn't matter, shrouded by masks of unknowing as tangible as those which covered their faces day after day. The two of them had no identifying marks they could see or remember after this ended.

But that would be enough 

He always left before sunrise. Before any light could sneak through the broken window, revealing that which they both tried to hide: identity, the scars, the definitive features that made them both people. They weren't people here. They were the texture. They were fine silk, cheap denim, smoke, french cologne. A mystifying arrangement of touches and smells. No sight, and rarely anything distinguishing as far as sound. 

but that would be enough 

The kid had taken his place a few nights. Those nights were without the subtle guiding of hands, or the closeness of two people absent from their identities. That was a different intimacy, the kind that reminded her of the flames she so loved to inflict upon the enemy. This was different. This was an experience all her own, and like hell she'd share this with any of those losers. They didn't deserve this, didn't deserve him. None of them did. He had been so much more than carnal senses. He was a true being. Tanned skin, short brown hair, and more curses muttered in under a minute then she could count. He just lay there and traced over the burn scars on her arm with grim fascination. She had never seen Spy's face when he had done the same to her so many nights in a row. It felt odd. She let her eyes drift closed and touched foreheads with a smile. 

And that had been enough 

Spy had started lingering for longer and longer after that. He guided her hands into his hair and told her about the scars on his back. She returned the favor by uttering her own grievances into his shoulder as he memorized the landscape of her ribcage. He had forgone the gloves tonight, she noticed. His rugged fingers traced circles, x's, and tiny dotted lines, connecting them like a strategy played out upon her chest. Games meant to be played out by two people who had nothing but unknowing in common.

And that would be enough.


End file.
